


A Candle in the Window

by Dazzledfirestar



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad relationship, everybody speaks Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has her first chance in a long time to celebrate Christmas the way she remembered it. She only has two people she'd like to share it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Candle in the Window

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Feelstide, prompt #4. Translations for the Russian in this fic are at the end. The title is a reference to the tradition of keeping a light in the window to welcome those less fortunate to your table for Christmas, and to lead those you've lost that year back in spirit.

“Stop it.” She didn’t look as she reached out to smack Clint’s hand away from the table of food. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet? I thought you said we could eat when it got dark out.”

“When the first star appears.”

“Natasha… far be it for me to question tradition but we are in New York city. It might be hard to tell…” Phil had to good form to look a little contrite at agreeing with Clint.

She waved them both off and sighed. “I haven’t been able to do this for…” she shook her head. “For a very, very long time. I’d like to enjoy it with the two of you but if you continue to whine about it, you can leave.”

Clint came slowly into her view as he snuck between her and the floor to ceiling window she was staring out of. She felt Phil’s hands on her shoulders and she relaxed. “Sorry, Nat.” Clint smiled a little. “I can wait.”

Just as he said it, she saw a twinkle above the skyline. Phil must have seen it too because she felt him chuckle. “Your patience won’t get tested apparently.” She pointed over his shoulder. “There it is.”

“I know. I saw it a minute ago.” He smirked and kissed her cheek before slipping around her toward the table. Phil shook his head and followed him.

“So, care to explain any of this?” The older agent waved a hand over the carefully put together table. “Like, the straw, for example.”

Natasha nearly laughed. She brushed her hair out of her eyes as she remembered her mother--or she thought it was her mother. The memories were vague and potentially not real—carefully trimming the table for a Christmas celebration that was outlawed completely by the government. “The straw under the tablecloth is to represent the manger where Christ was born.”

“Oh, it’s a God thing…” Clint refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely.

“Yes, it’s a God thing. I appreciate the tradition, not the religious context.” She did swat him that time, leaving him rubbing his arm. “The candle in the middle is the light of God.” She recited the explanation as it was explained to her. “There are twelve lantern dishes,” she threw a glare at Clint, “one for each apostle. The kalach--that’s bread, Clint--represents prosperity.”

“I do speak Russian.”

“Horribly.”

“Stay out of it, Phil.”

Natasha shook her head. No, this wouldn’t be a family affair if they weren’t bickering. She picked up a small bowl with a small spoon in it and handed it to Phil. “Take your best shot.” She laughed softly as he eyed the bowl with a certain amount of trepidation, as if honey, wheat and poppy seeds could somehow harm the most decorated agent in SHIELD. She was willing to admit that the kutya was likely the most foreign of the customs she’d insisted on, but a little honey on the ceiling never hurt anyone.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Phil, really. It’s tradition.” Clint smirked at him.

Natasha leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We could let Clint do it, but do we really want him to be the head of this family?”

“Hey!”

“Hush.” Natasha turned back to Phil. “It’s a blessing. To keep the family safe and together through the year. I thought we could use all the help we could get.”

He sighed. “Alright.” He picked up the spoon and scooped up some of the mixture. He took another look at her and Clint and shook his head before flinging the contents of the spoon at the ceiling. “ _Khristos rodilsya._ ”

She smiled and took the spoon from him, scooping up a little more and taking a bite before offering him a spoonful, and finally Clint. “ _Davayte slavit’ Yego._ ”

“Okay, maybe I’m rustier than I thought….” Clint took another bite of the mixture.

“More God stuff.” Phil smiled and kissed a little honey from the corner of his mouth. “The point is, Christmas is here and we can eat.” He threw a wink at Natasha before moving closer to the table. “What’s first?”

“Borsht, or pickled herring, if you like.”

“No meat?” Clint frowned again. “Seriously, we didn’t eat all day and no meat?”

“There’s fish.” Phil pointed out as he filled a bowl with very bright red soup.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Apparently the Russian Orthodox Church agrees with you.” Natasha forked out some of the pickled herring and smiled. “I’ll take you for burgers tomorrow. At least try some…” She waved a hand over the table.

“Alright.” Clint kissed her cheek and handed a soup bowl to Phil who was closer to the pot. “Where’d you get all this anyway?”

“A deli in Brighton Beach.” She shrugged. She left off the part about the little old lady who ran the deli telling her to ‘bring her men by the church’ if she wanted more company. She’d smiled and politely refused. She couldn’t quite find the way to explain to her that it wasn’t about the church. Not for her. It was about a time when she wasn’t as she was now. It was about remembering—at least she thought they were real memories—what it had been to have a family. That this was only for her and her new family, and to honor the sacrifices and risks her old one must have taken. “Eat up, or I’ll drag you back there to tell that sweet little old woman you didn’t like her cooking.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And Phil will help me.”

The man in question smiled a little around a bite of varenyky. He swallowed and nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”

“There you go, _Moy lyubov._ ” She slipped comfortably back into Russian, as if the food and the company was taking her home. 

Clint smiled and leaned in, kissing her lips softly. “I know what that one means.”

Natasha shook her head and smiled, sitting down on the couch with her full plate. “I’d be worried if you hadn’t picked up that much yet.” 

“Every so often, I get the feeling he’s playing dumb for us.” Phil settled in beside Clint and shook his head. “And if you are, you need to stop. You’re not fooling either of us.”

“Got it.” Clint smiled a little wider and kissed Phil’s lips. “Mm. Maybe I will try some of the borsht.”

That got a laugh from both of them and Phil held up a spoonful for him. He obediently ate it, making a show of thinking it over for a moment before he got up to get his own. They worked their way leisurely through all twelve dishes like this with the occasional question on why something was used so often—“Poppy seeds are said to represent abundance and prosperity, Phil. No, Clint I don’t know why beef couldn’t represent something.”—until they were all very full and at least mildly content.

Natasha watched the two men with her as they sat on the couch, discussing the meal and the traditions she’d shared with them. She smiled, leaning into Clint and pressing her finger to his forehead for a moment. She skipped the honey, major part of the blessing though it was because she didn’t need a fight on her hands. “May you have sweetness and many good things in life and in the new year.”

He smiled and kissed her lips before she moved toward Phil and did the same. He caught her wrist and kissed the tip of her finger. “Isn’t there supposed to be honey on that?”

“I’m saving myself an argument. And you did your research.”

“I don’t like flying blind. Even for dinner.” He kissed her finger tip again. “ _S Razhdestvom, moya milaya._ ”

“ _Spasibo vam za eto._ ” She reached across and took Clint’s hand, not bothering to translate. “Both of you.”

She reached forward, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the ice bucket on the table and pouring three measures into three glasses, handing one to Clint, one to Phil and keeping one to herself. She smiled down into the glass before raising it. “Merry Christmas, gentlemen.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Translations:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _Khristos rodilsya_ : Christ is Born  
>  _Davayte slavit’ Yego_ : Let us glorify Him
> 
>  _varenyky_ : dumplings, perogies
> 
>  _Moy lyubov_ : My love
> 
>  _S Razhdestvom, moya milaya._ : Merry Christmas, my dear
> 
>  _Spasibo vam za eto._ : Thank you for this.


End file.
